Perhaps Maybe
by MelodyOfSadness
Summary: Perhaps those two were meant for each other. Maybe in their past life they were separated lovers. They didn't know, all they knew was, slowly dancing, that their place was right there, in each other's arms. Perhaps, maybe, they were in love.


**Teehee**

**Melody of sadness here.**

**It's been what, two years? A year? A year and a half since I uploaded a fanfiction?**

**No idea...**

**But I'm back...ish...most of you probably don't care...**

**but *sigh*, I LOVE this pairing.**

**This pairing IS love. xDDD**

**Enjoy ^^**

**oh yeah**

**Disclaimer - I don't own Vampire Knight. **

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><p>Perhaps it was her attitude.<p>

Maybe it was his eyes.

It could have been how her composure always got her through without a nervous breakdown, which he waa sure he would have disliked greatly.

His eyes were the most brilliant blue, the pure color which she loved, like how it was when he looked at her.

She was calm when she found out Yuuki was a vampire, calm when she found the whole Night Class was composed entirely of vampires, calm when the school was being attacked, calm when everyone was against the night class (but she stood up for them), calm when she was lonely for a year, and calm when she was in a ballroom filled with vampires.

His pure eyes sometimes locked onto something he found interest on. Then they'd mull over it, looking it up and dowm, and the reflection in his eyes was sea blue. As bottomless as the oceans. She knew he was in deep concentration, and would not like it if he was bothered. But when he finished thinking, his eyes were a sky blue, just floating by, cheerfully wide and high without end. Then he'd share with her whatever it was that he had previously thought about.

Perhaps it was his attitude

Maybe it was her eyes.

He was the flirtatious playboy, and yet he was so serious. He knew his duties.

Her soft hazel eyes would look at him, look him over, then look into his own eyes. Unjudging.

He was very smart, she knew. He was a vampire, after all, and according to Yuuki, they were all truthfully very intelligent (Yuuki couldn't speak for herself, though). She knew he had an understanding of the world far beyond hers, and she respected him for that. And although he put up that carefreet front, she knew that there were more times when he would sit at a desk, squinting over research papers. More times when he followed his leader, probably willing to sacrifice his own life for it.

He would watch her eyes focus on something, maybe the sky, and she'd comment on it, a one-sentence evaluation. Sometimes she said it was going to rain. He didn't mind the rain. Sometimes she said it was much too dark. Great for him. He didn't have to get burned. Sometimes she said it was way too sunny. He was happy for her; she needed a little sunshine. But he was the most happy when she said it was like his eyes. She never judged him. She never judged anyone. She merely watched with those beautiful hazel eyes of hers.

Perhaps it was her intelligence.

Maybe it was his special ability.

She knew that the Night Class was different. She felt the danger they radiated, and even said she would prefer someone from the Day Class.

His ability reflected his personality. Water was fluid. Always changing. Fire was bold. Hot-headed. But his ice showed his hardy and set mind.

She was perceptive, too. She'd look around, understand the situation, then act accordingly. She could tell the strained first conversation between him and her, and had resorted only to talk when necessary. It didn't take long for her to figure out that he liked talking about materialistic things, although he didn't take a personal interest in them. She proceeded to keep a one-topic conversation with him the whole time, successfully keeping the conversation flow.

He was like ice. Solid and cold. Sometimes his words stung like dry ice, sometimes his attitude came like a blow, a large block of ice dropped your head. He was detatched from her at first. Why must he be kind to her? He was only under Yuuki-sama's orders, after all. Such cold eyes, she thought. But ice melts. He was cold, but also warm. She figured, that if she was cold enough, then maybe he'd feel warm to her. But if she was detached too, then ice and ice would not stick, they'd just remain cold, takin solitude in each other's coldness. His personality was cold, like ice. He knew it didnt matter to her.

Perhaps it was his intelligence

Maybe it was her special ability.

He was smart. Everyone knew that. Well maybe not everyone, considering his flirtatious acts, but he was smart, and knew how to keep a good conversation.

She had this way of knowing things. A way of timing things correctly. This was called 'perceptiveness', she recalled.

He had taken her to a safe location, but she had riled him with questions on the way. Was Yuuki okay? What's going on? Will she be safe? He knew exactly how to answer her so that her questions were fully answered, and so did not give any way for her to think of any more. She found out later that when he wanted to talk, he was good at it, manipulating his words into a sentence so eloquently that one would think he could speak music and art. He liked talking to people who interested him, and when he did so, the other person would be captivated by his intelligence, his ingeniousness and his charisma.

She was quite perceptive. She knew when to ask Yuuki if she was alright, she knew when to passively send her friend to Zero without Yuuki knowing she was being manipulated, she knew when Zero was being stubborn, she knew, oh she knew so much. She knew when Kaname was bothering Yuuki, when Yuuki would be worrying about her encounters with the Night Class, and she knew when Zero was restless, something bothering him. And she knew all this without being told anything. How? She observed. She knew that to support her friend, she needed to know things without being told. She was, as people say, sharp.

Perhaps it was her voice.

Maybe it was his touch.

That sweet sound when she would call his name. Of course, she didnt mean to appear particularly affectionate, but her voice rang in his head the whole day.

His strangely cold yet warm hands which grabbed her wrist. She could still feel it. The pressure on her arm when he held it, and then the tingling when he let go.

She had a soft voice, one which he only heard once or twice. But it didn't matter, because he rememered what she said, when she said it, and if he was feeling smart enough, the frequency of the sound waves when they reached his ears. The soft and yet hard voice, barely being heard and yet so loud to those who did. Her voice did not speak her thoughts. Her eyes did that for her. But her voice was seldom heard, and he was disappointed about that. He wished he could hear her call his name. He wished he could hear her sing. He wished she woukd come to him and talk to him, making good conversation with her sweet voice and wit. That's why he treasured her voice all the same.

He was strong, and yet gentle. His hands had a certain grace to them, although being rough, like a man's. She held his hands once, and she knew in that moment that his fingers fit perfectly between hers, as if she was born to hold his hands. She smiled of delight and pleasure when his hands held her cheek, brushing it softly. Then sighed when it went away. She wanted to keep being under his gentle yet strong grasp, where she always knew she would be safe. When he let go of her she could properly feel his absence, and she'd crave for security, because if he wasn't there, she wasn't safe. That's how she felt.

Maybe it was his voice

Perhaps it was her touch

His voice was annoying sometines, particularly when he didn't shut up. But she loved hearing it all the same, because she knew he was there.

He liked the way her petite hands fit perfectly inside his, the way they locked together. He liked to hold her hand, knowing she was close by.

He would talk for ages, and she'd simply listen and nod. Then when be finally shut up, she wanted nothing more than to hear him talk again, because goodness he was amusing, and knew how to entertain her. But it was mostly because of how he'd call her name. Softly, gently at first, then exhasperatedly later, when she didn't reply. His voice rang out throughout her head, and she never wanted to forget his voice which called her repeatedly, over and over. Looking for her. Searching for her. Because it was the thrill of the game, when she hid from him and when he found her, he'd shout out her name, and she'd smile. His voice was music to her ears.

It was the way she held his face when she stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the forehead, or maybe the cheek, or to whisper something in his ear, and maybe, if he was lucky, to kiss him on the lips. And even then her lips were so soft, so smooth that he never wanted them to leave him. But they did, as all kisses don't last, and he'd whine for more, which usually was ignored by her, but he'd feel the tingling on his lips where his met hers, and he'd feel the warmth in contrast to his coldness. He liked the way her hand was gently placed on his shoulder when they danced. The way her hand was held in hers, and when he stopped leading to daydream about her, about wanting never to let go of her, she used her soft and elegant hands to guide him.

Maybe it was the way she loved him

Perhaps it was the way he loved her.

She didn't think much of him. He was the flirtatious boy of the school, one who was rumoured to date a girl one day and another the next. She found him ridiculous.

He hadn't paid so much as a thought to her when they first met. After all, why would he bother himself with someone who didn't care? Someone who was AFRAID, of all things.

But then of course, when he was ordered to take her to a safe place, she half expected him to flirt with her on the way. His eyes were ever so serious, void of all playfulness and laughter. Only when she bugged him to talk to her, to answer her questions did he speak, and his answers were serious as well. His attitude was a serious one, she found out, and his flirtatiousness was just a front. His special ability was ice, suitable for him, she thought. He was quite cold to her at first, and she thought maybe thats why he controlled ice, but later she corrected herself by deciding that it must run in the family. He was so amusing to talk to, so knowing, so knowledgable that she never bored of talking to him. His hands were rough, and yet so soft. She liked the way his touch was gentle and yet strong, powerful enough to kill other vampires, and yet soft enough to hold her hands. His voice was so elegant, and she could tell he spoke a lot on matters of research or politics. It had a dignified air to it, and she liked listening to his voice.

First impressions aren't always correct. He'd talked to her, found her to have a pleasant and calm attitude, keeping her poise the whole time. And her eyes, oh her eyes were unjudging of him, despite knowing what he was. Then her intelligence. She was smart for a human, and could keep up with him in conversation. And she was ever so perceptive, knowing immediately when he didn't want to talk and when he did. Her voice was soft, not piercing like he found most humans had. Not annoying, either. She spoke when she had to, and she said the right things. And her hands, the way she placed them on his shoulders when she lightly pushed him away, when he wanted to see if he could break that poise of hers. Her touch was ever so gentle.

Perhaps it was the way Aidou Hanabusa loved her.

Maybe it was the way Wakaba Sayori loved him.

The way he'd call her name ever so softly, while looking into her eyes. 'Yori.' She could drown in his sea blue.

How she'd reply to his calls of her name, while he fell into her hazel. Noone had ever quite called his name like that before.

The way he couldn't stop thinking about her, how she stayed in his mind the whole day. When he was awake he thought of her. When he was asleep he dreamt of her. She smelt sweet, and yet he didn't want to take any of her blood, because he felt like he'd be tainting that aura of innocence around her. She was like his precious treasure, one he didn't want to share with anyone else. Oh dear, he was being possessive.

She was still a student, studying. Sure, he was smart, he didn't need school, but she did. Which is why the only times she disliked how she loved him was during class, when she couldn't get his voice out of her head, calling for her, his arms pulling her into a hug, his eyes twinkling with delight at her presence. For goodness sake she _needed_ to finish her schoolwork. 'Baka…'She thought. 'Let me study'.

Perhaps, maybe it was the way they held each other in their arms, dancing to a slow waltz, Aidou holding her up, and Yori following his lead. They leaned closer to each other, ignoring the jealous looks of fangirls , or disgusted hunters Ruka, the excited Yuuki and Ichijou, and the indifferent Shiki, Rima, and Kain, and fell into each other's orbs. If eyes did indeed reflect the soul, Aidou's would only have Yori in his, and Yori would only have Aidou in hers. Even as the waltz reached its climax to end, they didn't care. Their breaths were the music they folliwed, and their bodies were locked in place, not wanting to move away from each other. Slowly but surely, they leaned in closer to each other. Yori stood on tiptoe, burden on her toes made less heavier by Hanabusa's arm on her waist. She closed her eyes, hands on his shoulders, and he used his free hand and placed it behind her soft neck, feeling her blood pulse through. He bent his neck down, and closing his own eyes, lips met.

**Perhaps, maybe, Wakaba Sayori, Day class, human, and Aidou Hanabusa, Night Class, vampire, were in love.**

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><p><strong>FINISHED! :D<strong>

**please, please, please, please review?**

**constructive criticism and that sort...I even accept flaming...**

**I like how this turned out, though ^^**


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